The Next Greatest American Hero : WIP
by MyTatuo
Summary: WIP : Based on the 80's TV Show, a sequel series? in which Ralph Hinkley's adult son Kevin, a slightly messed up young man due to virtual abandonment by his father, winds up going in the family business: saving the world! But does the suit work on him?
1. Prologue

Copyright (c) 2006 Thomas J. Capps. This story is a work of fiction, based on characters created and copyrighted by Stephen J. Cannell. 

PROLOGUE - THE EDGE OF THE GALAXY

It was happening all over again, and there was nothing they could do about it.

In the main ship of the Wanderers, the Speaker stood alone at the viewport. As in times past, he (recently he had come to think of himself as a "he", although gender was really unimportant to them, wasn't it?) had become the sole decision-maker for the Wanderers. When things were relatively peaceful (not less than 10 orbits, that was), they had tried to go back to their original way of life, including a tri-head council. But that was no longer possible. Now they could ill afford the time it took to discuss trivial matters, much less the items that might save countless alien lives.

The Speaker was about to press a button, without even realizing that the decision was already made, when the Assistant came hovering in. Not unlike the Wanderers themselves, the Assistant was the last of its kind. Perhaps that is why it chose to stay, though it really had few options. They had no ships to spare anyway, and it certainly had no wish to be dropped off on some isolated planet to live out the rest of its long, long life.

The Assistant, quite young for its race, waited with a reserved patience which was so unlike its earlier self. Obviously its thoughts ran parallel to the Speaker's own. If the Speaker had an umbilical sensor on his head it would probably be constantly drooping too.

The Speaker made a hand motion signaling acquiecense, and the Assistant tapped in some codes on an adjacent console. He understood what the resulting data would show, but was glad for the interruption anyway. He may be the sole decision-maker at the moment, but the others on this ship wanted him to know he was not alone. Obviously the Assistant could have input its information at its own station near the tranport rooms, but the message it was sending was more of a subliminal nature: We feel your pain, but we must endure.

The port changed to show a schematic of the galaxy in question. Any routes that were originally available to them, ANY routes, including the most secret, were secrets no more. There was absolutely no way to get there in time to save their Defender. The Assistant knew it, the others on the ship knew it, surely even the other member ships knew it, though they would not have had the resources to make it out this far anyway.

And if the Defender was lost, how long before the planet was also lost?

The Assistant trilled a few concilitory phrases at the Speaker, and then left him to his thoughts again. Unfortunately, the Speaker's mind turned to the past, instead of what could be done in the present. And why not? things were near hopeless now anyway.

The Wanderers came from a garden planet, now so much barren wasteland. Their race was now at its end, confined mainly to this ship, with a few Ambassadors assisting the other member ships. Without enough natural genetic material to keep their race going, when the last of the Wanderers died, who would continue? Oh, they could certainly synthesize some genetic material, but their offspring would quickly degrade with each new generation, so what would be the point? Would the other member races be able to continue the resistance? Especially now, when the menace was strong again?

Now, another garden planet was at risk. Chances were that it would be gone in a few rotations, and if not, then certainly in a quarter orbit or so. A few "days" or a few "months", to use the local vernacular.

And by the end of "today", the garden planet "Earth" will have lost its Defender, its "hero".

The Speaker began the sequence that would bring the ship away from the galaxy with the doomed green planet. The Wanderers would return, if only to record the devastation. In the meantime, they would hide, as they usually did. Perhaps the ships could find a place to meet, where they could all try to outguess the menace. When they had their fun on Earth, where would they turn next? What other green planets were within their reach? There were so few left...

A black leak of fluid began to trickle out of the side of the Speaker's eye, and down his green cheek. The loss of Earth would be almost as painful as the loss of his own planet. He felt as though he had adopted these people, these Humans, because they were so like his race, even though they were nowhere near as advanced. They were the ones who needed a Defender worst of all, because if they succeeded in destroying themselves, they had no ships that could leave their own orbit to save even a portion of their race. They were still trying to destroy themselves, but they'll never know now that it will be an alien force that finally ends the human race.

The Speaker adjusted the course slightly. The change was minimal, so perhaps his former tri-head council members wouldn't notice, in their current defense-planning duties. The Assistant would notice; the Assistant noticed everything; but the Speaker didn't think he would mind. Perhaps that was his ultimate reason for updating the Speaker in person. This new course would come much closer to the edge of the galaxy than they should dare, but at least they would now be able to monitor -

Yes, the Assistant's sensor board lit up remotely. Of course it would be watching. Directed toward a green planet, third planet out from its star. Patiently waiting to see if there was a chance, a small chance, that the initial wave was simply there to undo what the Wanderers did 20 orbits ago. And again 10 orbits ago. If that happened, perhaps there would be time to pick up the body of their Defender, and maybe even choose another. Of course, this new Defender would not have the luxury of a ten-orbit span to save their planet. They'd be lucky to have ten rotations.

The Speaker left the viewport after returning it to its forward view of space. He certainly wouldn't need the schematic to find the one route it would use if the chance arose. He left the viewing room, and headed for the former council chamber, to find a seat to rest for a while, and await word on Earth's hero. Of course, he couldn't help but morbidly wonder:

Was she already dead?


	2. Chapter One

On a slow, shaky flight over downtown Los Angeles, he thought to himself, _Hinkley, I think you're gonna be sick._

As the skyscrapers loomed larger, he did the best he could to keep his breakfast down. I twas hard to enjoy the sights from above while he was concentrating so hard, but that was okay by him. It would be a pretty big mess if he hurled up here. Truth be told, he wasn't sure what he was doing here anyway. Surely there were plenty of people in the world who would give a lot to be in his position, and he thought, _Point em out, sign em up, get me outta here._ For most of the bouncy flight, he had had a lot of time to think, mostly about the way his life had turned out so far. If there was one thing that he loved to do, it was wallow in self-pity. He was even aware that he was doing it; a former female friend (_no, not a _girl_friend, those were very rare_) finally stopped talking to him because she just couldn't take all the self-depreciating humor. He'd try to stop, but then again it was something that just seemed to feed itself: _Look how pitiful I am, wallowing in my self-pity._ Just another thing to complain about.

He supposed if he had ever seen a shrink, as his mother had once suggested, it would be real easy to blame it all on her. His mother, that is, not the female friend. Overbearing, manipulative single mother, trying to make it in the "Industry." And that Industry was always changing: modeling, acting, theatre; lately voiceover work. She wasn't as young as she used to look, especially by Hollywood standards. They had moved south of L.A. some time ago, down to Orange County, back when it was cheaper to live there than in the Los Angeles suburbs. Then it just became easier for his mother to find commercial work at local TV and radio stations. A few plays here and there to keep up her acting skills, and soon her agent in Burbank didn't even bother calling any more. She forgot all about her dreams of starring in Hollywood blockbusters.

_So what the hell am I doing circling over Hollywood_, he thought.

It was her latest boyfriend's fault. These guys were always trying to involve him in the latest scam to get closer to his mother. And, oh, there had been a lot of them. She had never remarried, but she still more than made up for her son's lack of action with plenty of her own, sometimes stringing two or three guys along at the same time, often trying without success to further her career. Not sleeping her way to the top, necessarily; at least her son hoped not. Her only saving grace in her son's eyes is that she tried to shelter him for these guys, though it was probably to keep from scaring guys off with the single-motherhood thing. It was usually the _guys_ who tried to buddy up with him, thinking that was their ticket in, especially as the age group of these guys got older and older.

Take this guy, for instance. Murphy was literally making him sick.

"Kevin?"

"Yeah, Murphy?" Kevin asked over the headset.

"You're looking kinda green there, bud. You need a barfbag? They're right in the door next to you."

Kevin was already shaking his head. "No, I'm fine, thanks," he said, just as the little two-seat helicopter gave another small lurch. Once Murphy's attention went back to his controls, though, Kevin looked over to make sure he knew exactly where the barfbags were. He didn't reach for one, but concentrated on surpressing his gurge.

Once his stomach calmed down a bit, Kevin continued to ignore the skyline below him and jumped right back in the pity-pool. _I wouldn't hafta worry about Mom's boyfriends if I could hold down a fuckin' job long enough to get my own place! _He'd tried moving out a couple of times, but once he lost whatever job he had at that moment, it was always back to the nest. She always welcomed him, probably because she felt bad about all the moving around when he was younger, and about all the out-of-town assignments which meant leaving him with sitters, neighbors, her ex-husband - his father...

_Oh, yeah, Ralph Hinkley._ One thing was for certain: he'd rather live with his mother for the rest of his life than go move in with his deadbeat dad.

Murphy's voice startled him just before his anger could really build over the man Kevin thought was really responsible for his screwed-up life. "Wha..." he started to ask, then realized Murphy wasn't talking to him. He was confirming his call letters into his headset, probably on a channel that Kevin's passenger-side headset couldn't pick up.

Just as Kevin started to mull over a new topic to distract himself from thoughts of his father, he noticed Murphy's sidelong glance at him, and then the helicopter began a sharp change in direction.

"Copy that, Tower, we are returning to Long Beach. Kay-you-eye-four-four-five out." Kevin heard a faint click in his ears, and then Murphy came through just a little stronger. "Sorry about that there, Kevin, but we gotta cut this tour short."

"Something wrong?" Kevin's stomach made a similar course change when he thought about a problem with the helicopter.

The pilot noticed his passenger tightening up, and his furitive glance around the cockpit. "No, nothing wrong up here. Your mom called my office, and... Well, let's wait til we get back on the ground so she can tell you."

Kevin was clearly puzzled. "What's the matter? Come on, Murphy, I'm not a kid. What's happening?"

Murphy concentrated on his bearings while he debated how to break the news to Kevin. "Looks like there was an accident of some kind. Somebody died." He paused. "A friend of your family."

Now Kevin was even more puzzled. His mom didn't have any friends, at least not female ones, and the male friends didn't stick around too long. Murphy obvoiusly wasn't dead. That left his father's side...

The image of a certain person popped into Kevin's head then. It was a person Kevin tried subconsciously not to think about. Ever. The anger that he felt for his father paled in comparison to...

Another thought popped into his head almost immediately, and just as quickly Kevin pushed it away. It was wrong, he knew, but he couldn't surpress the thought.

_Please God, let it be him._


	3. Chapter Two

"Hello?"

"Hi, hun, it's me."

"Where are you? Are you back in California? Were you able to get a flight out?"

"I'm sorry, hun. I'm not sure how to tell you this; I won't be able to make it. ... Are you still there? ... Oh, God. Please don't cry. You know I hate this."

"I just don't understand. Why wouldn't you be here? What could be so important?"

"You have no idea, kid."

"I would think...with everything that's happened, and now with you not coming? the least you could do is consider MY feelings."

"I'm sorry, Sarah. I'm old and set in my ways. I know you don't like to be called kid or hun or --"

"That's not what I'm fu¢king talking about! I'm talking about --"

"Whoa whoa whoa..."

"-- the man that means the most in my mother's life, who is one of the most powerful men in the world, can't even pull enough strings to make it to her funeral?"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. Things are happening here, and in the Middle East, and I seem to be the only one in Washington who is willing to do anything about it."

"The Middle East? Isn't that CIA? Let them handle it, you come back out for the funeral..."

"Listen, hu... Sarah. It's not that simple. President Bradshaw brought me to D.C. for a reason, and when things hit the fan, I can't just up and leave in the middle of a national crisis for anything except a family emergenc--"

"You ARE family, Uncle Bill! You were like a father to Holly. She told me that the day my adoption went through. That we were ALL a family now, the three of us. And not just because of the suit."

"Uh, yeah, Sarah, about that. You told me she didn't have the suit with her when she was in the ...accident. Was it there at the house?"

"... Oh my God."

"What?"

"Is that why you're calling?"

"Wha... uh, no ... of course not. I had to tell you that I wasn't going to be able to --"

"Don't give me that bullsh¡t!"

"You know, your mother didn't teach you to curse like that, I think."

"Listen, I gotta go cool off, so I'm going to hang up now. I'll think about what I'm going to do with the supersuit later. Maybe I'll --"

"Hun, don't say 'super' over the phone. Even my private line could be record---"

"-- MAYBE I'LL just give it to Ralph Hinkley. At least he and his wife can interrupt THEIR busy schedules to honor my mother!"

"Actually, that's not a bad idea. Could you tell Ralph to give me a ... Sarah? Hello? Sarah?" 


	4. Chapter Three

"It was a lovely service, Sarah."

Sarah had been in her own little world during the funeral, just allowing everything to wash over her. It was no surprise that she hadn't noticed that it was now over, and that everyone was now waiting to pay their respects to her, the grieving daughter. She managed a "thank you" to whomever had just spoken to her, and then consciously tried to focus on the person actually speaking. Of course this was Pamela Hinkley, wife of her mother's (_my_ late _mother's_) old friend Ralph. They had sat next to her through the service, since the Hinkleys were the closest friends to the Hathaways for the past few years, even though they rarely saw each other. With all of her mother's "jobs" and activities, she and Sarah still seemed to keep to themselves socially. Now that Holly was gone...

Again Sarah had slipped away, and needed to pull herself back into the moment. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that again?"

Pam began looking worried, and turned to Ralph, who then turned to the line that had started to form behind them. He began to whisper, probably for her benefit, but she could tell he was making apologies for her. Something about meeting everyone at the house...

Suddenly Sarah's mind snapped back, now that she had a task to focus on. She spoke over whatever Pam was now saying, loud enough so Ralph could hear as well. "Oh! That reminds me. When we get to our -- my house, I need to give you the suit."

Though Sarah had had the presence of mind, at least, to avoid saying _super_suit, you would think that she had just started babbling about the aliens and super-powers and interspecies communication, the way the Hinkleys suddenly sprang into action. They roughly ushered Sarah away from the gravesite, and away from those heading to their cars, all the while making excuses for Sarah as though she were hysterical.

"Am I really that out-of-it?" she thought out loud.

Pam softly said, "We just wanted to make sure you didn't say anything else. You do seem a bit unsteady, although that's understandable."

Ralph interjected, "Um, what were you saying about the suit?"

Sarah looked at Ralph, confused. "Didn't Bill tell you?" When Ralph shook his head, she said, "He wanted me to give it to you, since the -- since no one has come to pick it up. I'm sure he would have come to get it himself, if he had been able..."

Pam turned, "Oh, don't bother apologizing for Bill Maxwell. I still can't believe that he wouldn't even come to Holly's funeral..." She began grumbling under her breath, and even started to tear up.

Ralph put his hand on his wife's shoulder, but gestured to himself with the other hand. "Me? Why did Bill want you to give it to me? I'm not gonna... you know..."

Sarah gave him a look now, like he was the one getting hysterical. "I assumed he just wanted you to hold it for the aliens until they return, or asked you to pass it on again." She continued as Ralph shook his head again, more emphatically this time. "It actually made sense to me, since you were the only other human who has seen them face-to-face besides Bill. Living, anyway," she managed to get out.

Pam turned back to Sarah, "I've seen the Greenguys too, not that I want to relive that. Sarah, we wanted to ask you this before, but ... what happened? Did your mom have the suit with her?"

Sarah again felt reality slipping away, but could still hear herself clinically answer Pam. "I thought she did have it with her, but apparently I was wrong. I wasn't there, so I don't know; perhaps she started to think of herself as invincible." She knew Ralph and Pam were trying to argue with her, but she couldn't hear them over her own speech. "The guy came out of nowhere, and disappeared just as quickly. As you know, the bullet wound went right through, and they never recovered the slug, a spent casing, anything. No one at the scene could even identify the suspect afterwards. After the police notified me, I went straight to her closet, and there it was. Of course, she didn't wear it every waking moment, but if you ask me why -- why ... why wasn't he there? Where was he? Why did he leave us? Why wasn't he there to protect my mom?!"

Sarah didn't hear how loud she was screaming, or feel the tears streaming down her face for the first time since her mother was killed. She didn't feel the hands of Ralph or Pam reach out to her to keep her from falling. All she saw was the ship, the alien ship coming down, enveloping her in its blue and white light. It only hurt for a second, but she knew beyond reason that they would help her, help take away the pain of losing the only person who had ever loved her...

Her last conscious thought, however, was _why are the Greenguys showing up at Forest Lawn in broad daylight?_

* * *

When Sarah opened her eyes, all she could see was a bright light, but then a shadow entered her vision. She tried to shake her head to clear her vision, but she realized then how much her head really hurt. The shadow, a male voice, told her to lie still, and although it sounded alien to her, there was only one person who would be in the spaceship with her...

"Bill?" she croaked.

"Oh, fuck me! Do I look a thousand years old to you?"

Sarah sat up, and nearly head-butted here visitor. She then realized she was in a hospital room, not the spaceship, and that the person standing above her was not Bill Maxwell, but... "Kevin?"

"I will forgive you, this one time, since you tried to bust open a headstone with the back of your head and failed. Just don't let it happen again." He smiled that smile of his, the one that looks like he's actually pissed but covering it with sarcasm, but Sarah knew him better. Probably because she was a lot like him.

"Kevin? What are you doing here?"

"Yeah, look, I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the funeral, but, you know, my dad and Pam were there, so... Anyway, she called me and told me what happened, so I came after they left. Can't stay long anyway; visiting hours are almost up."

As if on cue, a nurse came in and started trying to shoo Kevin out, and to attend to her patient. Kevin managed to stay out of her way, though, so he was able to stick around until the nurse left to fill a water pitcher.

He came back to the bed, meaning to offer condolences on Holly's passing, but Sarah stopped him. "Listen, Kevin, there's something I need you to do for me, and I don't know how much time we have. I think someone was trying to send me a message."

"What are you talking about?" Kevin began, and looked around as though the headstone's buddies were coming back to finish the job. Sarah suddenly grabbed his sleeve. "Wha--"

"Listen, I need you to call your dad for m--"

"Forget it."

"Listen, there's something at my house he needs to pick up. It's a ... box. A black box, in my mother's closet."

"What's in the box? Drug money?"

"It's... something my mom borrowed from your dad a while back, but it's gonna...expire if your dad doesn't get it from my house."

"What in the world? What ARE we talking about, pornos that have to go back to the rental place? Never mind, I don't care. I'm not calling him."

"Well, call Pam, then. Tell her the key is in the ceramic bunny on the front porch. She knows what to look for."

The nurse re-entered then, and this time she wasn't taking "no" for an answer. Kevin had to promise Sarah that he would come back tomorrow to catch up, but more importantly that he would call his step-mother about the box. As he left the hospital, however, he made a different promise to himself. He was gonna find out what kind of kinky shit his dad, Pam, and Holly were into.


	5. Chapter Four

--- system startup --- 

Synchronizing... INSTRUCTION MANUAL NOT FOUND!  
Suit Containment Pocket: EMPTY  
Containment Case Pocket: EMPTY  
Searching with normal range... NOT FOUND

Commencing UNAIDED Power Up Sequence

Scanning current spatial location...  
Scanning current global location...  
Scanning current universal location...  
Translating celestial/local time equivalent...

--- power up complete ---  
Bi-Pedal Humanoid Power Suit (v.Sol.17.231) now active

Reason for Initial Power-Down: Extended disuse detected  
Length of disuse (local meas.): 9 Dys 4:54:65.72 hrs mark

Disintegration Count-Down: Interrupted  
Reason for interrupt: Previous user detected (HINKLEY, RALPH)  
Voice-print match: NEGATIVE  
DNA match: working... ... ... ... ...

ERROR: Unable to verify from containment case  
User/HINKLEY required to engage with suit directly

WARNING: User/HINKLEY gender non-match to User/HATHAWAY  
User/HINKLEY: larger mass, two-piece design required  
Upon DNA verification, case-aided transmogrification begins  
Time to completion of resize/redesign (local): 0:22.91 hrs

waiting... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Containment Case WARNING: Activated!  
DNA match to User/HINKLEY: (pending)  
SECURITY OVERRIDE  
Opening allowed, activating interior light

Contact with User/HINKLEY...

MATC-

M-

MATCH DETE-

NEGATIVE! DNA NO-

MATCH DETECTED!

* * *

"Oh, man," Kevin said to the darkened empty living room. "I was just kidding about the kinky stuff." 

On the table next to the open black case, Kevin dropped the key he used to get into Holly's Bunny Ranch, as he liked to call it. _Well, Sarah's Bunny Ranch now_, and wasn't that a weird thought? The innuendo didn't quite fit plain old Sarah as well as it did her MILF mother (_and, actually, shouldn't there be a few extra letters added on now, code for Mom I'd Like to Fuck If She Wasn't Dead: MILF-IS-WD?)_

In a way, Kevin knew his mind was disengaging. He was having a real hard time wrapping his head around the... outfit he was now pulling out of the case he had found in Holly's (Sarah's) hall closet. "This is not what I imagined when I thought of rifling through Holly's underwear..." he said under his breath.

But other than some weird kind-of roleplaying, _this costume couldn't really be for kinky stuff_, he thought. Although it was probably form-fitting on a woman, he wouldn't really call it sexy, per se. It seemed to have a turtleneck, not a plunging neckline, and no short skirt or high-heeled boots that all the comic book heroines would wear. No, this looked like what Holly Do-Gooder might wear if she really wanted to go out and start fighting bad guys, not just helping stray cats. And he had NO idea what the symbol on the chest stood for; it looked kinda Chinese, or maybe an origami bird of some sort. Not something obvious like a big "S", or "HH", or "CRL" (_Look out, here comes Crazy Rabbit Lady!_)

_Of course, maybe instead of "HH" it should say "RH". Sarah did say that Holly was borrowing it from my father._

Now THAT would be kinky! As mad as he usually got when thinking about Dear Old Dad, it was hysterical to think about his father running around Los Angeles in his red spandex suit, chasing bank robbers, fighting bad guys, hosting Saturday Night Live...

_Hosting Saturday Night Live?! Where the hell did that thought come fro-_

And suddenly, the thought became even clearer, as though it had actually happened: A pre-teen Kevin, sitting up late at night, alternating between staring at his mother with her mouth wide open, and staring at his father on the TV screen, just finishing up his goofy Groucho Marx impersonation ON LIVE NATIONAL TELEVISION (well, taped for the West Coast); his father, starting his opening monologue as though he was a movie star or sitcom actor or football quarterback-

_Whoa, my father was never on SNL! Why would he be? He's just a high school administrator, not a celebrity or an athlete._

Well, then again, there was that time he pitched for the California Stars. Maybe it happened around the same ti- _PITCHED FOR THE STARS?!_

Kevin dropped the suit back into the black box he found it in, and shook his head like a wet dog. Man, I'm tired, was his last coherent thought as he closed the lid and picked it up and headed back for the closet. Since his brain had pretty much started running on auto-pilot, it wasn't a conscience decision that changed the movement from putting the box back wear he found it, to instead reaching up with one hand and just pulling the light cord inside. The other hand bobbled the case a bit, since it went from holding the case up near eye-level to sticking it under his arm, but the movement was still pretty fluid considering. Forgetting how he had planned to check Sarah's animals after finding out what was in the box (_box? what box?_), he grabbed the key back off the table, locked the front door on his way out, and dropped it back in the rabbit-shaped pot.

* * *

As Kevin continued on auto-pilot, merging onto the I-5 southbound on his way back to his house in Anaheim, the freeway noise easily drowned out the faint whirring noise of the black box on the seat beside him, busily working on the contents within... 


End file.
